Choices
by Jackyblu
Summary: House has a conversation on a very different level. Set half a year after "No Reason"


**Choices**

"We've _got _to stop meeting like this," House said squinting into the bright light. He sat up and frowned. What had happened _this _time? Oh right. Alcohol, a couple pills, and a motorcycle ride, not his best move. When Wilson heard about this he wouldn't be surprised.

"Greg, I don't know if its recklessness or you're just a slow learner. Don't you have any regard for human life?" A voice was scolded him.

House answered grumpily," Well I became a doctor didn't I?" He held his hand up shielding his eyes from the light.

"_Your_ life Greg."

House stood up and dusted off his jeans, although they were perfectly clean. The light toned down and became easier on his eyes. "This wasn't intentional. My leg hurt and I needed a distraction. I took a ride on my bike."

If quiet were visible this silence would be opaque. House was a little irritated by this and stated ironically, "Look, that guy ran the light and hit _me_. I didn't try to cause this!" He half expected to be struck but was too angry to flinch.

A voice as gentle as a caress came at him instead. "But you made the situation optimal by taking a drug and drinking. Then you jumped on that fool machine of yours and drove it way to fast."

"Who are you, my mother?"

"No. I'm your Father."

"Oh snap!" House answered rolling his eyes. "Look Dad, I don't mind these little 'talks' we have, especially since I don't believe either of us is here right now."

"And yet, you keep coming back."

"Synapses misfiring, disruption of the optical nerve, hallucinations…who knows?" House offered as explanation.

"I do."

"Right, I forgot, all knowing."

"That's right."

"All forgiving?"

"Within reason."

"All _loving_?"

"Yes."

"You have a damn funny way of showing it."

"How so?"

"Well unless I am very much mistaken, I'm dead…again."

"Not exactly dead…yet."

"Would you mind explaining to me what I did to _deserve_ your wrath?"

"What makes you think I'm angry with you Greg?"

House made the face he reserved for very thick clinic patients, "Well, I'm dead…duh."

"I had nothing to do with that. That was you screwing around with a little thing called 'free will'."

House pretended to be shocked. "Is it appropriate for the Almighty to say 'screwing' around?"

"Just communicating in a language you'll understand. Besides, I created sex too."

"And on behalf of us mere mortals, I would like to thank you for that," he said nodding his head.

"Your welcome."

"Getting back to this 'free will' thingy, you're saying this was my fault."

"Wasn't it?"

"Maybe."

"_Greg_…?"

"Okay…_this_ time," he conceded. But not with that psycho! There was no _free will_ enacted there," he furrowed his brow stubbornly.

"Oh?"

"Are you trying to tell me that it was _my_ fault I got shot?"

"I am not trying to tell _you _anything_. _I know better than that."

"The guy just came in and shot me!" His eyebrows arched so high they almost reached his hair line.

"What guy?"

"Are you kidding? What did you do blink?"

"Sorry. 'General Hospital' was on."

House rolled his eyes. "Funny; a comedic deity. I am referring to an ex-patient's husband who shot me in the stomach and neck."

"Now why would he shoot you? You saved her life."

"How about…" House screwed his face up in mock concentration. "He was _insane_?"

"Partially. Any other reason he might have been a bit aggravated at you?"

"Not my fault," he said with conviction.

"She killed herself because you felt she needed to know the truth about her husbands affair."

He closed his eyes and whispered," I thought she had the right to know,"

"Maybe you pushed an unstable person a little too close to the edge. You told her because _you_ think truth is more desirable and feelings are irrelevant." There was a chuckle. "You are also supremely arrogant."

"That's a bit harsh," House answered, his blue eyes opened wide.

"The truth usually is. But you _know_ that, don't you Greg?"

House held up his hands in surrender. He realized he wasn't leaning on his cane. "Alright, but my leg and the heart attack were…"

"_Were_ exactly what you requested."

House tapped his finger against his chin in a mocking way. "Hmm, I am pretty sure I would remember asking you for a heart attack and a crippled leg."

"You didn't in so many words."

"Ah ha!" He shook his index finger triumphantly.

"What you asked for was to keep your leg."

He was becoming irritated. "It is _mine_."

"Yes it is."

"So the choice should have _been_ _mine, _" he bit out.

"You _chose_ to keep the leg and have the clot removed knowing as _a doctor_ that you would have toxins wash back into your system including the potassium that caused your heart to stop."

Now House was angry. "So you're saying I was destined to loose my leg?" He snarled.

"No, I'm saying that you had a choice."

"My leg or my life? Your choices suck!" His shout was swallowed into nothingness.

"You created a third choice for yourself though."

And yet, we are still debating. "To have Cuddy put me into a coma until the worst of the pain passed. You saw how well _that_ worked for me. I woke up missing the better part of my right thigh."

"Another exercise in free will."

"I _chose_ to be put into the coma. I did not _choose_ to have most of my thigh muscle removed!" He rubbed his eyes.

"No you didn't. Stacey did. She made a choice."

"She didn't have the right!" His eyes were tearing at the recollection. He wiped them with irritation.

"She thought she was saving your life. You did make her your health proxy, so technically she did have the right," said the quiet, warm voice.

House snorted a laugh in annoyance. The Lord Jehovah is going to talk to me about the law now?"

"I did write the first ten you know."

"Oh right. Moses was your mouthpiece. I forgot." He was calming down a little and fixed a sarcastic little half smile on his face.

"Snide comments aside…which I forgive you for, by the way; you made the choice to make Stacey your proxy. She chose to save your life by having muscle removed.

"Did she save my life? Was I wrong about the toxins washing from my system eventually?" He needed to know.

"What do you think Greg?"

"I think I was right," he answered quietly.

"Then what difference does it make?"

The tip of House's tongue appeared briefly as he considered. "I'd like to be certain."

"There are no certainties in life."

"What about death?" He wanted to add, 'and taxes' but he wasn't feeling all that cocky right now. He felt lousy.

"You keep proving that there is no certainty in death either. Gravely ill patients get better, and relatively healthy ones die."

House narrowed his eyes. "Why is that? Do _you _decide who dies and when?"

"Not exactly. Doctors are a great deal of help in that area."

"Because of the treatments we prescribe?"

"Because of the _choices_ you make."

"And so it all goes back to 'free will' right?"

"Right."

A powerful shiver racked House's body. "God, it's cold here!"

"Not here, but I'm sure where you are now it is getting _very_ cold."

"If I'm not _here_…which I know I'm not by the way; then where am I?"

"On a road in Princeton, lying under that motorcycle of yours, bleeding onto the street."

"Oh." House's face fell. "How long have I been there?"

"In mortal terms, about ten minutes."

"Am I going to bleed out?" For the first time in the conversation he felt concerned.

"Depends on the choice you make doesn't it?"

"Which choice is that?" He was light headed and confused.

"To live or die."

"I'd prefer to live if it's all the same to you," he answered sincerely, an open look on his face.

"If that's your choice."

"It is," House answered earnestly.

"That's what I wanted to hear." The response was hopeful and kind.

"You're sending me back?" He asked hopefully.

"Sending you back from where Greg?"

House shook his head and laughed.

"This is three. Don't screw it up."

"Lord?"

"Yes Greg?"

"Is there any particular reason you look and sound like Wilson?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

The sound of sirens and human voices caused House to open his eyes.


End file.
